FLATLINE| JK

twenty six

When a boat capsizes, you have one of two choices. Sink or swim. Try or give up. Live or die. One of life's only true ultimatums.

"Hang on. Don't give up. Stay with me." Doctors always say things like that to our patients when they're flirting with death, as if that ever influences whether or not they do hang on, give up, or stay. We all know that unfortunate fact. While we do have more aptitude to coerce someone with fatal injuries into staying alive than the average person, we have it in the form of medical knowledge and skill, not sheer force of will. Not blind faith in words. Not irrational trust in whatever higher power decides who sinks and who swims.

In spite of all of that, we say those words anyway. Stay. Don't give up. Hang on.

Those are the words I silently repeat in my head like a mantra as I make my way to the pathology lab, a bag of blood in my coat pocket to deliver. My heartbeat rings in my ears as each of the hospital personnel that pass me eye me curiously. People have watched me since the explosion, but this kind of stare is different now. This one is one of repulsion, secondhand shame. They don't see me for who I am, for my hard work, for my medical degree. They see me where I've been, but disregard the fact that it brought me here. They see me for the dark shadow that follows me everywhere. I can't seem to shake the silhouette of my past, no matter how hard I try.

I want to drop the bag of blood off at path and run, leave the hospital for the day. Maybe for good. But then, those same words anchor me to my goal, remind me gently of what I want: to be a surgeon. Stay. Don't give up. Hang on.

This is the first time all day I have been alone since what happened with the photos. Since what happened with Jeongguk. I've tried to keep my mind off of it, and it has been easy to temporarily preoccupy myself with triage training with Chief Kim in the ER, but now, there's nothing to keep Jeongguk's words from bouncing around in my mind, echoing and hurting more and more the longer I think about them. How could he? What could have possibly told him that making me a laughing stock for the whole hospital was a good idea? Someone plastered my intimate photos all over the walls of the hospital, and that is bad enough, but Dr. Jeon's words are just salt in the wound. The pitiful looks from people just rub it in more, since the only people who don't look at me like I'm dirty are my intern group and Chief Kim.

Just as I'm about to round the corner, I see the storage closet door to my right crack open in my peripheral, and yelp in surprise as a hand pops out, latches onto my arm, and pulls me into the closet. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but when they do, I freeze. Dr. Jeon.

"Hey." He murmurs, and I can't even find words to express how I feel at this point. Hey? That's what he has to say to me, after all he has done? I can't even find it in me to remove my arm from his grip, too taken aback. My eyes drop to the ground in resignation and his hand slides down my arm to take my hand. "Are you okay?" He asks. My eyes snap up to look at him again, shocked at the way he asked a question with such an obvious answer. That must be all he needs to confirm my response, because he sighs, taking my other hand with his own and grasping my two hands between his, rubbing them gently. Before, the gesture might have been sweet. Now, it makes me sick to my stomach.

"We'll find out who did this, Moon. I'll make sure of it." He says, and I realize that his features are twisted into that same pitiful look that I despise. There's no guilt, no remorse, and most importantly, no apology. He doesn't even think he did anything wrong. Before I can help it, a humorless laugh escapes my lips. His brows furrow, and I snatch my hands out of his grip.

"You've done enough." I say firmly, surprising myself and Dr. Jeon with the strength in my voice. "More than enough, actually."

"What? Don't you want to know who did this?" He asks, and I am flabbergasted at how he can't wrap his brain around what he has done.